


Dean Winchester and the Tulpa at Hogwarts

by StynaLane



Category: Supernatural, wizarding world of harry potter - Fandom
Genre: Hogwarts, Tulpa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 22:25:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10751025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StynaLane/pseuds/StynaLane
Summary: Sam and Dean hear word of a possible Tulpa attacking tourists at the Harry Potter theme park, which in turn uncovers a dark secret about Cas.





	1. Part 1

"You're fucking with me, right?" Dean said, a grin fading from his lips. "Sammy? …Tell me you're fucking with me."

Sam sighed. "No. It definitely seems to be a Tulpa."

"Tulpa, I can deal with. But you're telling me there's a damn Tulpa in the form of Lord Voldetron—"

"Voldemort," Sam corrected.

"Voldemort, whatever, at the Hogsport theme park."

"Hogwarts."

Dean thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Nope."

"Dean, we can't just—"

"I'm not doing it," he said with finality, taking a swig of beer.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean glared at the dark road ahead, grumbling behind the wheel of the Impala as they crossed the Florida state-line. Sam's head bounced slightly against the passenger window in sleep. Cas absently stared out the window of the backseat. He had been silent for most of the ride, but as they neared the theme park, he began mindlessly humming what was indisputably Hedwig's Theme.

"Why do you even know that tune?" Dean asked.

Sam stirred in his seat, but remained deep in slumber.

"I watched the films on the television," Cas said. "While the portrayal of magic is painfully inaccurate, the musical score is very catchy."

Dean scowled at the rear-view mirror, and turned the volume knob of the radio until the sounds of Asia drowned out the blasphemous noise behind him.

The sky was just beginning to turn a dull gray. Dean punched Sam in the arm as they pulled into the abandoned parking lot of the theme park. Sam jolted awake and wiped the sleep from his eyes.

"Why is the music so loud," Sam asked, turning the volume down, surprised he'd managed to sleep through the noise.

Dean glanced at the rear-view mirror again. "I was getting a headache."

Sam shook his head in confusion, but didn't press the matter. He pulled his laptop from the bag at his feet, and opened the message board he'd been looking at before they left the bunker.

"Okay, so according to this," Sam said, eyes shifting around the computer screen, "three people have been attacked by what they claimed was Lord Voldemort on the Hogwarts Express."

"What's that?" Dean asked, slowing to a stop at the back of the lot.

"It's the train students use for transportation from Platform 9 3/4 to Hogwarts," Cas said without hesitation.

Dean and Sam looked over their shoulders at him, eyebrows raised. Cas was too busy staring at the tip of Hogwarts, just visible over the trees that separated the parking lot from the main park.

"Yeah," Sam said slowly, turning back to his computer. "Anyway, each victim has ended up hospitalized with various internal injuries, and all left with a lightning bolt scar on their foreheads."

Cas scoffed. "The scar left on Harry Potter's forehead was the product of Lord Voldemort splitting his soul over a failed killing curse. It's unlikely that he would have made the same mistake twice, let alone three more times after Harry."

Sam and Dean turned to him again, faces frozen is something very similar to shock.

"The films were intriguing," Cas defended himself.

"Can we just do this already?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "There haven't been any reports from staff of sightings while the park is closed. I think we're going to have to wait until it's open and tourists start showing up."

"Great," Dean muttered. "Hunting in broad daylight, surrounded by a bunch of tweens in cloaks."

"Actually," Cas chimed in again, "with the consistent age progression of the characters, and the relatability of the underlying themes for all ages, you'll find that a large percentage of the fans are well past their teenage years."

The next few minutes were spent with Sam trying to restrain Dean from reaching into the backseat with the apparent intention of choking, punching, or otherwise physically harming their angel friend.


	2. Part 2

Dean jumped, ready to pull a knife at the soul-shattering scream that came from behind them. Sam placed a cautionary hand on his arm at the sight of two young women shouting—and possibly crying—as they took a picture with an exceptionally convincing Snape impersonator. Dean muttered something under his breath, returning his blade to his jacket.

"I need a drink," he said, heading straight for a kiosk in the middle of the cobblestone street. He didn't know what 'butterbeer' was, but it had 'beer' in the title, and that was good enough for him.

"We're working," Sam protested, taking off after him.

Cas pulled Sam aside and said, "As far as I am aware, there's no alcohol in butterbeer."

As if on cue, Dean spit a mouthful of yellowy liquid out into the street and slammed the cup down on the kiosk, a few frothy drops jumping up and leaking over the sides. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he headed back over to Sam and Castiel with eyes blazing so angrily they could have scorched the Florida sun.

"This place is hell," he growled.

"You know you've been to actual Hell…" Sam said incredulously.

Dean ignored him. "Where's this train we're looking for?"

He and Sam looked to Cas, who was entirely distracted by a group of Beauxbaton students doing a little dance on a stage not far from them.

"It's quite film-accurate," he said, mostly to himself.

"Cas!" Dean roared. "Train."

Castiel pulled a map of the park from his coat pocket and studied it. "This way."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean sighed, grumbled, shifted on his feet, and did all manner of things to make very apparent his disdain for waiting in the queue.

"Isn't there a back way into this thing?"

"They keep the staff entrances well secured to make sure tourists don't find themselves behind the scenes and ruin the magic," Cas explained, staring patiently ahead as the line progressed slowly.

"Magic, right." Just as Dean murmured this, his eyes widened as the person at the front of the line seemingly disappeared through a brick wall. "What the hell?"

"At King's Cross Station, Hogwarts students enter through a brick wall, directly between platforms 9 and 10, to find themselves on platform 9 3/4, which, technically doesn't make sense, since 9 3/4 isn't half way between-"

"Okay," Dean cut him off, contorting his face in disgust.

"It's simply an illusion, here, of course. A matter of angles and perspective," Cas said, sounding almost disappointed.

"Cas, just how into all this stuff are you?" Sam questioned, eyebrows raised as they moved closer to the platform.

The angel didn't answer. He simply adjusted his coat, took a deep breath, and moved forward through the platform—the corners of his mouth curled ever so slightly upward.


	3. Part 3

"Mmm," Cas mumbled in approval. "It doesn't look exactly like it did in the film, but it's still very impressive, given their limited muggle resources."

"What the hell is a muggle?" Dean asked, still shifting anxiously as they now waited in the queue to board the train that hadn't yet arrived.

"Non-wizarding folk," Cas explained distantly.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look somewhere between bewilderment and concern.

"Cas—" Sam began, but was cut off by the resonating sound of a train horn.

Castiel's eyes lit up as the Hogwarts Express slowly pulled up in front of them, the rhythmic sounds of the wheels echoing throughout the platform. A few of the tourists waiting in line applauded and cheered in excitement.

Sam raised his eyebrows in discreet admiration. "You gotta give 'em points for effort."

Dean shot him a sideways glance, shaking his head as the queue moved forward. A park employee in a red vest, with a less than believable English accent, ushered the three of them through the train doors and into Cabin B. It was, admittedly, a bit cramped for three men of their stature. Dean dropped his duffle bag at his feet, awkwardly wedging himself into the seat next to Sam. Cas took the other side, sliding up against the wall near the window. He put his nose against the glass, which seemed to show the brick on the other side of the train, with pillars of steam rising up.

Frowning, Cas tapped on the glass, and said, "It's cinematic."

"What are we looking for?" Dean asked, trying his best to ignore Castiel's ever-more obvious fanaticism.

"Each witness described Lord Voldemort to a T, so... I guess we're looking for him," Sam said with a shrug.

"Okay, but consider for a second that, unlike Fangirl Becky over there," Dean said, nodding to Cas, "I'm not a giant nerd. I don't know what this guy looks like."

"Black robes, bald, no nose," Cas said, angling his head as if he might get a better look out the window, even though it clearly wasn't an actual window.

"No nose," Dean repeated. "So I guess you could say he's... not gonna nose what hit him..."

Dean grinned at himself. Cas and Sam both stared at him, straight-faced and unamused. Dean's grin disappeared as he cleared his throat.

The train jarred a little, ready for departure, and the image in the window started to move. Castiel watched, completely captivated as an owl swooped down and followed along beside them.

Sam watched him for a moment, then looked to Dean. "We should go look for any Tibetan symbols. I'm not sure Cas is going to be much help on this one."

Dean nodded, but before they were even able to get all the way into the hallway, the same employee who had seated them was by their side.

"Please remain in the cabin until the train has come to a complete stop," she said, smile plastered across her face. It was difficult to tell if it was the genuine smile of someone who loved their job, or if it was the typical customer service smile adopted by everyone who had dealt with far too much shit at their place of employment. Either way, she was adamant, and surprisingly intimidating.

The boys returned to their seats just as the sky in the window darkened. A woman shouted something from somewhere down the train, and the shadow of a long-fingered hand crept across the frosted door of the cabin. Dean pulled the blade from his jacket, and yanked open the sliding door.

"Dean—" Cas called, but it was too late.

Dean looked up and down the hallway. It was empty, save for the red-vested employees talking quietly at one end of the train. He looked back at the door, where the disembodied shadows remained, moving, and accompanied by voices that he suddenly realized were recorded.

Sam dragged Dean back into the cabin, and waved apologetically to the employees before they could catch sight of the blade. "I... I think it's just part of the ride."


End file.
